


Biting Back

by Alathe



Series: Growing up Witchers [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Because Lambert has sharp teeth, Bisexual Lambert (The Witcher), Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cursing (It's Lambert after all), F/M, Growing up in Kaer Morhen, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lambert's a biter, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Only as adults, Young Lambert (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alathe/pseuds/Alathe
Summary: Lambert's always been a biter. Sometimes he looses control, and sometimes that's ok.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Growing up Witchers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042764
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	Biting Back

**Author's Note:**

> It's a Decembert (Lambert-centric December) fic! Hopefully there will be more.

When he finally managed to get his teeth on the exposed flesh of the wrist of the witcher who had pulled him away from his parents, they had just entered the courtyard of the towering keep. He wasn't paying attention to that, though. He just wanted this fucker to let him go. He shouldn't have been surprised when he landed on the ground in an undignified heap, then, an angry pup who rolled away from the stamping hooves, shaking his red curls out of his face, and snarling at the yellow-eyed man with blood in his teeth. He didn't care about the shouting, either, and was ready to bite the next asshole who grabbed him. But strong arms wrapped around him from behind, his brain went fuzzy, and despite his intentions, he relaxed. He had a very clear memory of the moment before Axii was first used on him, because he'd actually been _ afraid _ . Not of the men - the witchers - but of getting stomped to death by the horse that had brought him here, that after all that bullshit Lambert's tiny body would be mashed by those big hooves. Maybe that's why he didn't care to keep a horse, name it like his brothers did, lavish affection on it. It was just a fucking horse, a tool, one more thing to have to take care of on the Path. He didn't need that responsibility.

So yeah, he'd always been a biter. The first time he bit Rennes, he got a personal introduction to the man's belt. Not that it did any good, he'd gotten used to thrashings long before he came to Kaer Morhen. It took his instructors a long time to figure that out, though.

Lambert didn't care for winter, the keep was far too full, and the heavy snows kept him from running away to the peaceful meadows. Most of the witchers out on the Path came home for winter, too many sets of those feral-looking eyes watching him. He wasn't dumb, he  _ knew _ they weren't all watching him, but that didn't stop the thoughts, the ones that made him feel strange and outcast because he  _ existed. _ He didn't like people, he was pretty sure he'd always been that way, and he just wanted to be left alone. There was no  _ alone _ in a castle full of mutants and mages, though. He learned to behave in ways that kept them from wanting to be around him, and that helped a little.

The first time he bit Geralt, the big, white-haired witcher just  _ looked at him _ . Just watched impassively as Lambert bit as hard as he could, until his little mouth filled with blood and he had to pull away because he wasn't going to swallow it. Then the bastard calmly asked him if he was done. He didn't know how to answer that, so he crawled off of Geralt and left quietly.

When he sunk his teeth for the first time into Eskel's forearm, his favorite giant (Eskel was definitely a giant compared to his tiny childish frame) cast Axii on him. He was pretty sure now that Eskel would have gotten in trouble if any of the older witchers had seen it, but Lambert liked it. It relaxed him, and for a little while, he forgot his anger. Eskel made it feel soft and comforting in his mind, like rolling around on velvet. Like his brain was stuffed with silk, and there was no room for anything rough or unpleasant. It was a rare moment of peace.

He bit Eskel a lot while he was growing up, when he needed to be freed from the bullshit for a while. He bit Geralt quite a bit too, when he needed to hold on to the anger until it would finally run away from him. He wouldn't bite Vesemir. Maybe because Geralt and Eskel both seemed to respect him and at the same time, fear his wrath. If these two witchers who could deal with his teeth in a way no one else could feared this man, Lambert wasn't eager to try his luck.

When he found out that his mother died, no one could confirm his father had beaten her to death, but Lambert  _ knew _ . He sought out both of his favorite chew toys, working out his anger on Geralt, then being comforted by Eskel. When they returned that next winter, Lambert was nervous, his trials would be the following summer, when the keep was less full. He climbed into Eskel's lap, but the big man bid him wait. From his pocket, Eskel produced a ring that Lambert knew well. He'd worn it's imprint in his skin many times before coming to Kaer Morhen.

"Found it in a werewolf's gut."

Lambert made no sound, he wasn't sure how he felt, but he knew it was too much, far too much. He didn't dare open his mouth, he was afraid he might make sounds without knowing what they'd be. He pushed his head into Eskel's hand instead, and to his great relief the big man understood and Lambert had silence in his mind for a while.

As that winter began to fade, he bit Eskel and Geralt almost every day. They knew his cohort would go through the final trials in the coming summer, and understood that Lambert was terrified. They didn't talk about it though. They did allow him into their laps, allow his teeth in their skin, allow him to take whatever comfort he could before they left to the Path once more. He woke in the middle of the night, sure someone was watching him, and when he opened his eyes, Geralt was squatted beside him, hand resting on the bed.

"I'll be gone before you wake," the white-haired man whispered. "Thought you might want to say goodbye."

Lambert clamped down on that familiar hand, and the only sound were his small sniffles until he fell back asleep. He didn't hear Geralt's final whisper before the door to his room shut.

"To keep with me, just in case."

Eskel didn't cast Axii this time, just gently stroked Lambert's curls back from his face, keeping them out of the boy's mouth where it was latched onto his arm.

"I'll be leaving at sunrise. I will be very disappointed if you don't greet me when I come back for winter." Lambert did not whimper, honest.

Many more people learned to fear his teeth before the trials, but he couldn't let Geralt and Eskel down, now could he?

His oral fixation followed him into adulthood. He learned early on to keep his urges in check when he actually managed to find a whore willing to bed him. You don't forget when you get kicked out of your first bawdy house and told never to return by a madam who smells of fear but has balls of solid rock and isn't too intimidated to  _ physically push you out the door _ . He made sure to keep his mouth away from the ladies after that.

The first time he latched onto Aiden's neck with his sharp little teeth, the Cat promptly spilled in his breeches. Lambert insisted it was Aiden's fault for surprising him with a kiss to begin with. They surprised each other a lot, and it was always followed by biting, scratching, growling and groaning. They were matched in their craziness, and Lambert loved it. When he discovered that Aiden had been murdered, he went to find Geralt. He wanted revenge, and told Geralt what he knew, clenching his teeth the whole time. Geralt silently took him to his room and removed his armor and shirt, then pulled Lambert in close, holding him against his shoulder. That strong, familiar shoulder - and he bit down, choked off screams and sobs muffled against that alabaster skin. He bit, and cried; and blood, snot and tears ran down Geralt's chest and back until Lambert passed out from sheer exhaustion. Together they avenged one of the best men he'd ever known.

He did bite Vesemir once, but only after all the bullshit had happened. There were only four of them left, Kaer Morhen was little more than a ruin. Everyone else was dead. He didn't want to bother his brothers, they were grieving. He knew Vesemir was too. He himself had no idea how to even begin grieving for this shit. He only liked a few of them, hated most of the rest. But it still sat in his gut like a far-too-large meal of rotten food. How do you grieve for people you didn't like? Why would you want to? Everyone's tempers were running short. When Vesemir snapped at him for some inconsequential thing, he hurled himself at the old wolf and latched on. Vesemir scruffed him like a pup, shoving his ass into a chair, and demanding that he use his  _ fucking words _ . But now he was angry, he wanted the last person whose authority he recognized (not out loud, though, never out loud) to punish him. That would be a pain he could understand. That would make sense. This shit ...

"This shit makes no sense!" he yelled. "I don't know how to deal with this shit!"

"What don't you know how to deal with, Lambert?"

"They were horrible! Every last fucking one of them! I hated Rennes, I should be glad he's dead, so why does it hurt?" He didn't know when his screaming had turned into crying. When the tears had begun to stream down his face. Vesemir silently gathered him into his arms, and said nothing when Lambert's teeth met his arm again. He had no idea how long he lay there curled in his mentor’s lap, not really biting, just feeling the old wolf's skin between his teeth. The tears were dry when he was done, though. It wasn't the same comfort he got from either Eskel or Geralt, but he did feel better.

"I don't hate you." he said as he began to extract himself from Vesemir's grip.

"I know, pup. I know."

It was as close as they ever came to saying I love you.

When Geralt introduced him to the strange but beautiful bard, Lambert was, as always, cautious. He didn't seem to be afraid of witchers, but he was a fucking human. A few years and several more meetings and he knew he was being his usual grumpy self, but the pretty brunette just kept pestering him.

"Fuck off, bard." Instead, Jaskier  _ climbed into his fucking lap. _

"See, I knew you liked me, Lambert!" He looked to Geralt for help, but the White Wolf just smirked and pointed upstairs to their room. He cocked an eyebrow:  _ seriously? _ Geralt tipped his chin:  _ go _ . Lambert shrugged and Geralt smirked again as he stood with the bard in his arms. And damn that squeak the human let out was fucking adorable. He carried the bard to the room and had a bit of confusion as he found the very affectionate man clinging to him, and peppering his face with gentle kisses. Soon their lips were all over each other, and the kisses were no longer gentle, but passionate, and nipping. When Jaskier grabbed him through his breeches, he couldn't stop himself from biting that soft, warm flesh. The harder Lambert bit, the more Jaskier's arousal spiked. Suddenly he tasted blood in his mouth, and he pulled away, horrified. Surely the human would not be okay with that. But Jaskier just grabbed as much hair as he could on the back of Lambert's head, and pushed those sharp teeth back to his flesh, begging him not to stop.

When Geralt made it to the room some time later, he smiled as he took in the sight of the two curled around each other, a bit of dried blood on Lambert's lips and Jaskier's shoulder. He stripped down and joined them, smiling fondly as Lambert sleepily latched his teeth into Geralt's wrist.


End file.
